Post by John Henry Eden on May 16, 2011 16:29:11 GMT -6
"Ah, smell that salty air, Derp! 'Tis glorious, is it not?"
The owner of the English accent quickly throws on his clothes, a puffy white pirate shirt, a pair of black trousers, knee-high leather boots, and a long red overcoat, along with a red pimp hat with a white feather in it. Striding out of his quarters, the man emerges on the deck of the ship he was on, stretching greatly before stroking his pencil thin mustache with great satisfaction.
He was currently situated on a large galleon headed for lands unknown; he had been heavily drunk upon signing the contract to help colonize some obscure landmass that even more obscure explorers before him had found. Deciding it was better than bouncing around London and getting beaten up by the thugs that hung around the manufacturing plant or being shanked by Jack the Ripper again on the docks, he had merely shrugged and gave a goofy laugh before promptly vomiting on the priest's shoes and staggering home that night, though he had accidentally went into a stranger's house and passed out in the middle of the bed, right between the husband and wife that owned the place.
Needless to say, that had been an interesting night. He had been beaten with a wine bottle and tossed out the window the next morning, where he had fallen into a pile of rotting garbage with a permanent stench to it (which he guessed came from rotten imported cheese from France) and thus offended people in the streets for weeks and weeks.
This eccentric, slightly unwashed man's name was Sir Teapot McBigwood, though the 'sir' part had been added on a few years back. Still, nobody seemed to care that he was parading around as one of Queen Elizabeth's knights, so he just decided to go with it. Why fix what isn't broken?
Through it all, however, his faithful dog, Derp, had remained at his side. Except for that one time with the window and the garbage. McBigwood had found him in an alleyway one night when he had stumbled out of the tavern, and his drunken mind had vowed to take the dog home. He had given the dog the name because his alcohol-saturated mind could think of nothing else to call him. And thus Derp came to be called, well, Derp.
As McBigwood strides out onto the deck in a heroic, English fashion, he happens across one of the men sleeping in a chair. A lazy sailor on his ship? Unthinkable! Yet he thought it anyway, as such is how one as crazy as an Englishman might think. McBigwood immediately stomps up to the lazy sailor and slaps the man across the face with a white glove he produced from seemingly nowhere, causing him to leap up with an angered expression on his face. The man returned the favor in kind, nearly knocking the mustache off of his face. McBigwood slaps him again, and soon their conflict devolves into an old-school slapfight.
After McBigwood had slapped the lazy sailor to death with the butt of his musket, he chuckled heartily before throwing the corpse to Derp, who, happy to get a meal under any circumstances, quickly devoured it, belching loudly afterwards.
It was then that another sailor, a fat, grizzled man with a huge beer belly, came running up, catching McBigwood by the shoulder and dragging him off to the bow of the ship. "We spotted a ship off the bow, cap'n! Come and see!" Following the man up to the front of the ship, McBigwood takes the looking glass from him, staring out at the wide open sea. Situated far away from them was another galleon, the mast of which was flying the French flag proudly.
In a totally unsurprising turn of events, the French sailors, upon noticing the mighty H.M.S. France Sucks, McBigwood's flagship, the French sailors immediately pull down the French flag, hoisting up a new one, one that McBigwood thought fit their nation fairly well: the white flag of surrender. The French ship immediately turns northward in an attempt to escape the English, only to crash into some large, pointy rocks. McBigwood chuckles heartily as the French ship is dashed to pieces on the rocks and sinks instantly, before stopping his laughter abruptly. They were on the open sea not five minutes ago, yet that ship had just crashed into the rocks. That could only mean...
"Wait. SHI-" McBigwood is unable to say more as the ship suddenly hits something hard, throwing him off balance. He is thrown from the ship itself, only to land on the soft sand below in a heap. One of the sailors hangs over the railing, calling down to him. "Sorry, Cap'n! I meant to yell for land!" McBigwood leaps to his feet, dusting the sand off of his overcoat.
"Then why didn't you do so?" He replies angrily. "You were too busy beating that guy with your musket to hear!" Comes the response. "Oh. Right." McBigwood dusts off his boots before beginning to survey the area. He was on a beach in the New World, just like the Queen had wanted. A thin line of forestry stood before him, and beyond that was a nice little open plain, perfect for settlement.
"Well? Whaddaya think, Cap'n?" The sailor asks, yelling from the top of the overly large ship once again. "The land is rich and lacks dogshit... WE SETTLE HERE!" A joyous cry from the sailors answers him.
In short order, mostly thanks to McBigwood's way of inspiring his men - with whips and chains if they didn't work without stopping, that is - the Town Center was set up, as well as a few houses for the builders, which for some reason spawned more builders out of thin air upon completion. The land soon became a thriving center of sweaty carpenters and shit. McBigwood assists a few of the workers in building another house for all of about three seconds before getting bored of it and walking off with Derp, intending to explore the nearby forests.
"Watch out for the mean crew from Surrendopolis, Cap'n! We watched their ship wreck and didn't do anything, so they're probably pretty pissed right now." McBigwood merely shakes his head before charging off into the forest in search of adventure. The New World was full of life and other things, and he intended to discover them for himself, just like the self-proclaimed hero that he was!
The owner of the English accent quickly throws on his clothes, a puffy white pirate shirt, a pair of black trousers, knee-high leather boots, and a long red overcoat, along with a red pimp hat with a white feather in it. Striding out of his quarters, the man emerges on the deck of the ship he was on, stretching greatly before stroking his pencil thin mustache with great satisfaction.
He was currently situated on a large galleon headed for lands unknown; he had been heavily drunk upon signing the contract to help colonize some obscure landmass that even more obscure explorers before him had found. Deciding it was better than bouncing around London and getting beaten up by the thugs that hung around the manufacturing plant or being shanked by Jack the Ripper again on the docks, he had merely shrugged and gave a goofy laugh before promptly vomiting on the priest's shoes and staggering home that night, though he had accidentally went into a stranger's house and passed out in the middle of the bed, right between the husband and wife that owned the place.
Needless to say, that had been an interesting night. He had been beaten with a wine bottle and tossed out the window the next morning, where he had fallen into a pile of rotting garbage with a permanent stench to it (which he guessed came from rotten imported cheese from France) and thus offended people in the streets for weeks and weeks.
This eccentric, slightly unwashed man's name was Sir Teapot McBigwood, though the 'sir' part had been added on a few years back. Still, nobody seemed to care that he was parading around as one of Queen Elizabeth's knights, so he just decided to go with it. Why fix what isn't broken?
Through it all, however, his faithful dog, Derp, had remained at his side. Except for that one time with the window and the garbage. McBigwood had found him in an alleyway one night when he had stumbled out of the tavern, and his drunken mind had vowed to take the dog home. He had given the dog the name because his alcohol-saturated mind could think of nothing else to call him. And thus Derp came to be called, well, Derp.
As McBigwood strides out onto the deck in a heroic, English fashion, he happens across one of the men sleeping in a chair. A lazy sailor on his ship? Unthinkable! Yet he thought it anyway, as such is how one as crazy as an Englishman might think. McBigwood immediately stomps up to the lazy sailor and slaps the man across the face with a white glove he produced from seemingly nowhere, causing him to leap up with an angered expression on his face. The man returned the favor in kind, nearly knocking the mustache off of his face. McBigwood slaps him again, and soon their conflict devolves into an old-school slapfight.
After McBigwood had slapped the lazy sailor to death with the butt of his musket, he chuckled heartily before throwing the corpse to Derp, who, happy to get a meal under any circumstances, quickly devoured it, belching loudly afterwards.
It was then that another sailor, a fat, grizzled man with a huge beer belly, came running up, catching McBigwood by the shoulder and dragging him off to the bow of the ship. "We spotted a ship off the bow, cap'n! Come and see!" Following the man up to the front of the ship, McBigwood takes the looking glass from him, staring out at the wide open sea. Situated far away from them was another galleon, the mast of which was flying the French flag proudly.
In a totally unsurprising turn of events, the French sailors, upon noticing the mighty H.M.S. France Sucks, McBigwood's flagship, the French sailors immediately pull down the French flag, hoisting up a new one, one that McBigwood thought fit their nation fairly well: the white flag of surrender. The French ship immediately turns northward in an attempt to escape the English, only to crash into some large, pointy rocks. McBigwood chuckles heartily as the French ship is dashed to pieces on the rocks and sinks instantly, before stopping his laughter abruptly. They were on the open sea not five minutes ago, yet that ship had just crashed into the rocks. That could only mean...
"Wait. SHI-" McBigwood is unable to say more as the ship suddenly hits something hard, throwing him off balance. He is thrown from the ship itself, only to land on the soft sand below in a heap. One of the sailors hangs over the railing, calling down to him. "Sorry, Cap'n! I meant to yell for land!" McBigwood leaps to his feet, dusting the sand off of his overcoat.
"Then why didn't you do so?" He replies angrily. "You were too busy beating that guy with your musket to hear!" Comes the response. "Oh. Right." McBigwood dusts off his boots before beginning to survey the area. He was on a beach in the New World, just like the Queen had wanted. A thin line of forestry stood before him, and beyond that was a nice little open plain, perfect for settlement.
"Well? Whaddaya think, Cap'n?" The sailor asks, yelling from the top of the overly large ship once again. "The land is rich and lacks dogshit... WE SETTLE HERE!" A joyous cry from the sailors answers him.
In short order, mostly thanks to McBigwood's way of inspiring his men - with whips and chains if they didn't work without stopping, that is - the Town Center was set up, as well as a few houses for the builders, which for some reason spawned more builders out of thin air upon completion. The land soon became a thriving center of sweaty carpenters and shit. McBigwood assists a few of the workers in building another house for all of about three seconds before getting bored of it and walking off with Derp, intending to explore the nearby forests.
"Watch out for the mean crew from Surrendopolis, Cap'n! We watched their ship wreck and didn't do anything, so they're probably pretty pissed right now." McBigwood merely shakes his head before charging off into the forest in search of adventure. The New World was full of life and other things, and he intended to discover them for himself, just like the self-proclaimed hero that he was!